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“I do,” Jewel whispered. “But I didn’t grow up in a time when we threw parties.”
“But you didn’t grow up when you were certain you would be shunned, either. There was always someone else there who was out with you. Fifteen years makes a lot of difference, and while I absolutely love living here, we are known for being fifteen to twenty years behind the times. The world here moves slower than the world out there.”
Jewel nodded slowly. “I think I understand.”
Azalea wasn’t sure who had reached for who, but their fingers were locked together as they held hands. She glanced down at them, wondering if it could ever work out. Fifteen years in the twenty-first century was vastly different than fifteen years in the twentieth. Surely Jewel could see that. Surely she could see the fear written all over her, the worry, the pain.
She should probably move away. She should probably stop holding Jewel’s hand, but her fingers were so warm, and Azalea just wanted someone to tell her what to do, to tell her what to say, to lead the conversation. Why did she always have to be the one in charge? Jewel shifted her stance, and Azalea broke their physical connection.
“Just forget about Brady. He’s going to say and do what he wants no matter what we do. All we can do is respond to him or not respond.”
“That’s kind of the tack I took last night,” Jewel confessed. “I told him he was free to believe what he wanted, but that didn’t mean I had to agree with him. Or that anyone else had to for that matter.”
“Good.” Azalea pressed her lips together tightly. “I’m glad you took that first step.”
“It’s a big step to take.”
“It is,” Azalea agreed. “It really is.”
They fell into a gentle quiet. The refreshed coffee mug was at Jewel’s lips within seconds. “What did I say that hurt you?”
Azalea’s gaze snapped up to Jewel’s dark, beautiful eyes. She was so expressive, so easy to read. Azalea held back. She could tell Jewel what she had said that had hurt, but she wasn’t quite sure she could put her finger on why it had hurt so much. Nothing of what Jewel had said to Brady was untrue. Nothing had really changed between them. They weren’t in a relationship. They weren’t dating.
“It’s fine. It doesn’t matter now.”
Jewel’s glance was suspicious. Azalea held her tongue. They were at an impasse, one Azalea had created and one she was going to hold firm. She was all over the place that morning, when all she wanted to do was spend some one-on-one time with Jewel like they had before. She missed that—the simplicity of their friendship.
“Lea, let me in a little.”
Jewel’s pleading surprised her. Azalea leaned in, getting closer than she expected, longing for the connection she was missing, but she stopped herself inches away. “I have let you all the way in.”
“Not yet,” Jewel responded. “But I want to be there.”
“It’s scary, J.”
“I know.”
Azalea relaxed at the understanding she found in Jewel’s gaze. With a single nod, they were back on even ground, finally.
Jewel turned toward the living room. “Want to catch up on that baking show you like?”
“No. I mean, yes, I would love to, but I have so much grading still.”
Jewel groaned. “Don’t get me started on grading or figuring out this spring concert.”
“Why? What happened?”
“The kids sucked at that Latin piece. I knew they did, but I just didn’t want to admit it, but listening to the recording meant there was no denying it anymore. I have to find a new piece for them to learn in six weeks.”
Azalea whistled. “Good luck with that.”
“Yeah. So tomorrow…”
“What about tomorrow?”
“Are we only going grocery shopping or is there more planned?”
“Why would there be more planned?” Azalea stood in the center of the living room, about ready to grab her jacket and shoes so she could head home.
